


Lain to Waste

by Rikkapikasnikka



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: M/M, Prostitution, Shizuke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:11:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikkapikasnikka/pseuds/Rikkapikasnikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Tom doesn't exist, nobody will hire Shizuo because of his temper, and he doesn't want to rely on Kasuka. So he ends up turning to sex work just to keep himself fed. His client this evening? Orihara Izaya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posted from the DRRR!!Kinkmeme on Livejournal! This comes from Part 10, page 1.

It’s Tuesday.

Normally that doesn’t mean anything, I guess… Not a lot of traffic comes through here on a Tuesday night, so I probably won’t get a client. Plus, the sky’s getting grey, clouds and stuff. Y’know, with that look of rain? Even as I look up at it, it feels like drops should be falling already. I consider going home – if only so I don’t get wet – but realize that the potential of a prospect, of money, is worth the risk.

Never mind the fact I could catch a cold. Never mind the fact I don’t have a way to dry my clothes. Never mind the fact that it’s Tuesday.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

I wish it wasn’t Tuesday. Friday, Saturday, Monday… Those are the good days. People looking to fill up their weekend with a cheap lay or relieve themselves of whatever stress Mondays seem to bring. Not that I would know; I’ve never held a job long enough to know. I tend to...break things.

Sometimes those things are people.  
My last job was at a bar. I broke my manager’s arm.

...Don’t give me that look. I didn’t mean to. It’s not my fault he couldn’t describe how to make a hard goya without making it sound complicated. Okay, maybe it was my fault for losing my temper, but dammit! I still wanted the job!

Doesn’t that amount to something?  
Anything...?

No?

...Worth a shot. But I still have to feed myself, job or no job, so...

I don’t like doing illegal things. I really don’t like violence, and I hate to break the law. I want to be a good, normal, everyday citizen. I’ve long since realized that that isn’t an option for me, so I might as well move past it. Or something.

I haven’t introduced myself, have I? That’s pretty rude of me…

Hey. I’m Heiwajima Shizuo, and I’m the prostitute between Okubu Hospital and Suncity Hotel.

...Those are essentials for this occupation, right?


	2. Chapter 2

It’s Tuesday. Does that even mean anything to you?

It shouldn’t. It doesn’t mean much to most people, I would think. Perhaps that’s why I’m a little…desperate.

I’ve got a single bill on me, and it’s not worth a lot. I dunno what I could buy with it, much less find something that could fill my stomach. It makes me nervous. If I get too hungry, my temper shortens. If my temper shortens, I’m less likely to attract a client. If I don’t find a client, I don’t get money. I don’t get money, I don’t eat. Rinse, wash, repeat.

Months ago, I would’ve been disgusted with any man who was this desperate. I might’ve punched that man and told him to go find a real job.

It’s actually not that hard to punch yourself, but bruises on your face don’t look pretty. I chose not to punch myself, and I chose to continue looking for a real job whenever I could. However, the name “Heiwajima Shizuo” traveled fast. Not a single manager in Tokyo will hire me.

...Maybe I should try Osaka. Do you think they’ve heard about me there? I’ve really been trying to mellow out... Does it seem like its working? Perhaps I can start fresh.

But a ticket to Osaka costs money, which I’m looking to earn.

The streets are nearly empty. With the sky gray and the clouds out, and with it being Tuesday, anyone not home eating dinner is probably looking for trouble. Plus, I know there’s a prettier lady not far from here. Same dyed blond hair, tall and long legged. Damn, even I know she’s hot. Anyone looking for a lay is gunna go find her first. They never look for me.

Sure, I’ve been told I have a pretty face.  
Sure, I’ve been told I look cute.  
Hell, I’ve even been told I look adorable (not that I took that kindly).

But I lack something. Figure? Maybe. Grace? Most definitely. Patience? Certainly.   
Most people seemed turned off by my height. People like to fuck people shorter than them, I think.

So when I spotted the short guy at one end of the street, standing alone and looking up, I knew I didn’t have a chance. Okay, maybe he wasn’t that short, but there had to be at least ten centimeters between us. That’s a whole decimeter. I think. Whatever.

“Hey, babe.~ Whatcha lookin’ at?”

The words that come out of my mouth are totally out of character for me. There’s a swing to my hips that isn’t normal. There’s a smile on my face that’s out of place, a gleam that doesn’t belong in my eyes. It feels weird.

Dammit. I hate this. I hate this so fucking much.

And I hate it even more as I’m approaching this short stranger on the corner. He turns, caught unawares, and the first thing I notice is the jacket he’s holding.

It’s black. With fur. Fur on the hood, on the sleeves, around the bottom trim…

“Shizu-chan?” The man’s face breaks into a sickening large grin while the smile fades from mine. My body stops and my eyes go wide. I’m speechless and shocked, wondering why I bothered to approach the man. I knew he was too short... I knew it would be pointless. So why did I try?

“Shizu-chan, whatever are you wearing~?”


	3. Chapter 3

I looked down at myself, expecting to see something else. When you’re trying to sell your body, your clothing choices become limited; I don’t mean what you can buy, but what you can wear. Everyone likes boots though. Men like boots. Women like boots. So it’s boots I wear.

The short man across from me, holding his black jacket with fur trim, is eyeing my boots. I feel the rising temptation to give him a closer look by kicking his nose in. Yet doing so...

Doing so would give him a closer look at something else. Y’see... I’m also in a...

Don’t laugh, ‘kay? It’s kinda embarrassing. And if you laugh, you’ll just piss me off.

I’m also in a skirt.  
There. I said it.

And now that I think about, it’s probably that skirt he’s really eyeing. That smirk’s still on his face too. That annoying smirk. It’s annoying that he can smirk like that. Now that the shock is wearing off, it’s all I can feel: Annoyance.

“Finally gone blind, louse?” The mere sight of him sends my hatred to renewed levels.

“Why, no!” He looks back up to my face, finally. “I’m just wondering what Shizu-chan’s new job is.  
“Are you modeling cosplay costumes? I never took you for a closet otaku…”

My teeth grind. My body is tense. Otaku? What the hell? I glare at him, my gaze hard enough to be an answer. Yet he proceeds. Proceeds to piss me off.

“Oh, oh! I know! You’re getting surgery done, aren’t you? Top half not done yet?”

“Watch it, flea...” But I know he won’t listen. Since when has he?

“So that’s it then? Interesting~! A female Shizu-chan!”

A normal person’s teeth might’ve cracked under the strain, but my bones have stopped breaking for a long time now. “I’m not a girl, you idiot.”

“Ooooh?” His head tilts to the side, eyes wide and questioning. I consider turning around and walking away, but my anger keeps me rooted to the same spot, wanting to take action, wanting to get away... But knowing that if I walk away, he’ll just follow. Like the pest he is.

“Could’ve fooled me!” He laughs. “But where’s the proof, Shizu-chan?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Nuh-uh! It’s the perfect girly name for a girly you!” He laughs again. The sound of it vibrates in my ears, in my skull. I growl, my fists clench, and words travel to my mouth without my permission.

“If you must know, I’m a prostitute. Now can you leave?”

I have rarely seen a man like him generally surprised, but I can tell he isn’t faking that look of shock. Most people get it. Orihara Izaya, despite believing himself above ‘most people’, wouldn’t have thought of that outcome. Who does? Who considers it?

It’s a job for desperate people. A job for low, poor, pretty desperate people.

After the surprise leaves Izaya’s face, it turns into another smirk. This one...I don’t like. I mean, I’ve never liked his face, but this smile... It makes me scared.

I’m not easily scared. I’ve done a few things that’ve terrified me, but I stopped letting fear hold me back. Now, fear’s driving me forward.

“Is that so, Shizu-chan?” Low, seductive, a purr. The words I had used to greet him come back to haunt me. He knows, I think. He knows I thought he could be a...a client...

I gulp. He chuckles and moves a few steps forward, swinging that jacket over one shoulder. I tell myself not to back down, but I don’t move. My eyes follow him, my body stiff, paralyzed in...fear?

Soon, he’s right in front of me, barely any space between us. I can smell him over the wanting-to-rain-but-it-isn’t scent and the burn of the street asphalt. Now that he’s this close, I realize that he isn’t actually all that short, for he’s able to reach a hand up and brush it through my hair.

I tell myself I’m not trembling.

“So how much do I have to pay to get a peek under that skirt?”


	4. Chapter 4

I nearly choke. He’s straightforward, blunt, yet at the same time, confusing, a mystery. I can never tell what his ulterior motive is (and yes, he always has one). If I had been holding something, I would’ve dropped it. My mouth hangs open while he stands there, smirking, waiting patiently for an answer.

Which seems so like him, yet at the same time, not like him.

“Y’know what? Whatever. I don’t care.”

But that is typical Izaya.

“I’m just going to look anyway, ‘kay?”  
“Wh-WHA--?!”

Sure enough, he bends himself far enough down and at the right angle to look beneath the short, open, now-offending article of clothing. I feel my anger spike, but I’m too embarrassed as I back away and my face heats up. If anything, he’s amused – probably because I’m flattening out the edges of the skirt, as if it’ll prevent him from looking.

“Since when did you become a pervert, flea?”  
“Since when did you prostitute yourself, Shizu-chan?”

The quick remark quickly makes me bite my tongue. My throat tightens as I begin to growl. Now that I’m safely away from his eyes, I feel okay to let loose, to not hold back. Like usual. Izaya watches, all curiosity and smugness. This is all for his sick, twisted amusement.

“Iii-zaah-yaaaaahh…” I stress the last syllable, reaching out a hand to grab at the sign on the corner. A swish and a metal-like sound makes me draw my arm back. A knife hits the brick wall behind me. Had I even seen his hand move? Did you?

“Now, now, Shizu-chan. No need to get violent.” He pouts, straightening up in a fluid motion. “Have you even considered your situation?”

“I don’t need to consider anything when a dirty scumbag like you is lur--“

“What did I say about being violent?” He interrupts. It was his tone that caught me: Low and full of malice. I remind myself that I hate violence. But there’s not much I can do when Orihara Izaya is involved; I hate him more than I hate violence.

“Now.~ You’re going to listen, ‘kay?”

Another quick motion that my eyes can’t follow brings that equally nasty switchblade to my throat. Quickly, I back away, which I know is what he wants¬. But I’m not stupid and I step off to the side as well. There’s a wall behind me.

His eyes narrow and he follows, moving his feet constantly forward. The next time I try to slip away, he blocks me, threatening my neck with his little blade. I’m too embarrassed to start a scene, and there’s no way I’m chasing this louse through Ikebukuro in boots and a skirt.

I make the decision to swat his arm away, but he only pulls back to dodge it before he tries to come back in. Yet during that opening, I slip off to the side and around him, glaring and ready to walk away.  
.

It’s interesting to see him just as pissed as I am. Good, I think. Now he’ll lay off and stop this stupi-- SHIT!!

“SHIT!!” I slap a hand to my cheek, where I been grazed by another knife. I had been relieved to get away and distracted by the fierce look he gave me, and thus, had been unable to evade what should have been obvious.

Cupping my face, and feeling the blood well up under my fingers, I start to walk backwards and turn around. Izaya is the one who growls this time.

“Where do you think you’re going, protozoan?”

I faced him again, stopped. “What did you just call me?”

“A protozoan.”  
“And what the fuck is that?”  
“I’m not surprised you don’t know, Shizu-chan.”  
“Fuck that. What is it?”  
“You don’t know?”

I stare at him hard. Is he toying with me? Probably. No...scratch that. Yes.  
But I shake my head anyway, alert.

“Something annoying and insulting, I’m sure.”  
“Not particularly.”  
“The hell?” I snarl.   
“You see...protozoans lack brains that are of similar capacities to a human’s.”

This is when I’ve noticed that he’s used the conversation to get right back into my personal space bubble that I had tried so hard to preserve. This time, when I feel the cold metal on my skin, I don’t walk away. The pressure is intense. He wouldn’t hesitate to slice me open.

“Are you calling me stupid?”  
“I’m saying you’re not smart like a human, Shizu-chan.”  
“That’s the same damn thing!”  
“Oh. Is it~?”

He’s backed me up right into the wall. My fingers grope along the bricks, searching for anything I can use as a weapon. Punches, jabs, kicks, and swats... Izaya’s fast reflexes save him all the time. They’re pointless.

“Yeah, it is. Now back off before I beat your face in.”  
“My, my.~ That’s no way to talk to your client, Shizu-chan! Isn’t it supposed to be what I want?”

His pout is the furthest thing from cute.

“Fuck you. What you want doesn’t involve me.”  
“Ahh, but that’s where you’re wrong!”

Izaya nearly sings the words. He’s happy now that he’s in total control. I dig my fingers further into the wall, cracking the mortar as I try to dig out the brick.

“You see...~” He starts out, “You need money, obviously. So you look around every night searching for someone to pay you that cheap, nasty price to take your ass.” My eyes narrow. My anger isn’t fading. In fact, it’s building.

“And I’m willing to admit that Shizu-chan is very hot. I wouldn’t mind a piece of this!” I hadn’t even realized he had snaked his hand around until his fingers dug into my skin. Izaya just groped my ass!

I’m so startled, I drop the brick I had finally tugged free of the wall. Izaya chuckles, curls his fingers again, and my face lights up in mortification.

“I’ll pay you three times your last client, Shizu-chan.”

My teeth grind together. Three times is a LOT. But I don’t want him here! I want him gone! Out of all the crazy, scary people going around Tokyo, Orihara Izaya is the last one I would want with me.

“And it’ll be good!” He promises.

I doubt that. So much.


	5. Chapter 5

Don’t judge me on what I’m about to do. I don’t like doing illegal things. I don’t like stealing or being a thief. I don’t like breaking into places. I don’t even like violence. I hate violence.

There are now two things I hate more than violence. The first being Orihara Izaya, who’s walking happily along beside me while occasionally sneaking in a grope, and the second being myself, who’s trying to put up with him. I wish I didn’t have to.

I lead him around the backside of the Suncity Hotel. He looks a little confused as I clamor up the fire escape, looking upwards as I stand on the second landing. I know that he’s trying to look beneath the skirt. He wouldn’t have been the first pervert to do so.

From this landing, I dig my fingers into the window sill, effectively opening it. I know this window; the lock’s broken, so it’s easy to open. A secret amongst prostitutes, I guess, when we don’t have anywhere else to go but have a client to please. I look down at Izaya, coaxing him up here with a gesture of my hand. He points to his nose, and I nod.

He follows up after me easily. I climb into the room through the window, looking around the space for a suitcase or any other sight that someone is staying in the room. The bed’s made, the chairs are in their usual place, none of the lights are on... It seems unoccupied.

Izaya crouches in the window, one hand above his head to prevent him from hitting the top while his feet support his weight on the sill. He whistles, low, looking around.

“Come here often, Shizu-chan? I guess it is a little out of budget for you.~”  
“Shut up.”

He blinks, shrugs, and jumps out of the window. I glare at him.

“Try not to make too much noise.”  
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” He asks. I growl and look away, ashamed of the blush my face supports. He chuckles, stalks forward, and stops just short of where I’m standing. I wait, but he doesn’t do anything. His hands are behind his back. He’s rocking back and forth on his feet. Izaya watches me. I’m confused. I had thought the moment we stepped into this room he would’ve been all over me.

What happened to the impatient man from before?

“Well, Shizu-chan?”  
“Well what?” I ask.  
His eyes roll. My fists clench and my brow furrows.   
“What rules do I have to abide by, protozoan?”  
My body relaxes, despite the weird insult. He actually wants to be given some rules?

Instantly, I’m cautious. “Who says you’re going to follow them?” I try to hold back the anger and succeed. My voice sounds more questioning than insulted.

“Because those rules keep you safe, don’t they, Shizu-chan?”  
“Then we can start by dropping that nickname.”  
Izaya tisks and shakes his head before he lays a hand on my chest. I stare down at it, wondering what’s coming next, before he gives a good push and I fall back, forced to sit on the bed. Now I’m looking up at him, realizing that a tall flea is more intimidating than a short one.

“That won’t be necessary. Unless you want me to pay you less?”

I decide that I can put up with a nickname I’ve been hearing for years anyway. I look away.

“Oh good.~” He smiles. “I’m sure there’s more. C’mon!” He leans in close, our noses threatening to brush. I scowl, before digging into the back of one of my boots. I throw the tiny package in his face, but it isn’t surprising that he catches it anyway. His slim fingers turn it around, studying the shiny wrapping.

“A condom?”  
“Never seen one?” I gloat.  
He only laughs.

“I’ll give you an extra three thousand to go without.”

Dammit. Shit. Fuck. I know I’m clean because I let Shinra test me, but what about the flea? If I ask, he could be lying. If I go with it and he’s clean, that’s an extra two or three days’ worth of food. As I debate with myself, I can tell he can read my hesitance.

“I don’t have anything, if that’s what you’re wondering.”  
“Can I trust that?”  
That smirk pisses me off so much.  
“Of course. I’d hate to put you out of…work.” He sniggers at the last word. I glare at him.

“Awww~! Don’t look like that, Shizu-chan! It’s too cute!”

I feel myself choke on my own tongue. _Cute?!_

“Anything else?” He pushes forward, putting himself between my legs, one hand running up my inner thigh while he throws the condom over his shoulder, out of sight.

“No toys.” I say weakly. But I have a feeling that if he has something with him, he’ll just throw more money in my face so he can use it. “And that includes that knife of yours. Get rid of it.”

“You’re no fun.” He pouts, but he takes out the little switchblade and throws it, letting it join the little package on the floor.

“No. I’m playing safe.” I correct him, finally letting my legs fall open for him. The pout is replaced by an evil grin, and he forces me to crawl backwards onto the bed, so I’m lying atop the comforter. His face appears above me, and I can feel his knee rubbing into my crotch, slowly making me hard.

“What’s safe to touch then?” Izaya asks as he nuzzles between my jaw and ear.

“What do you mean?” I grumble. He was the client. Didn’t he get to touch whatever he wanted?

“Well... Can I touch these?” A hand slips beneath my shirt and twists at a nub. I hiss, caught off guard, but nodded mutely. He rubs it, as if to apologize for the pain, before his teeth sink into an ear lobe.

I gasp at the pain before nodding again, knowing what he would ask. He smirks against my ear, before the hand on my chest wanders down and pulls up the skirt, forcing it to sit around my waist. His hand replaces his knee, massaging at the bulge in my short boxers. I hold back a moan.

“And here?” He asks, but I’m already nodding my consent. Izaya moves on, pushing the soft fabric aside to brush a nail over my hole. I clench as he tries to force the digit inside – dry. I whimper when his finger slides in, all the way to the first knuckle; holy fuck, it hurts! It burns!

“Only with lube.” I grunt, my body trying to push him out, and he laughs. However, he agrees and draws his hand away, bringing it back up to cup my growing erection. Already panting, I’m surprised to hear him again and his breath ghosting over my face.

“Open your eyes, Shizu-chan.”  
I do so, not recalling when I closed them. I’m met with his bright brown ones, watching me, pondering. What’s he thinking about? Izaya’s always thinking. It pisses me off.

“What about these?” He leans down and softly brushes his lips over mine. For a moment, I’m confused at the warmth, before I realize how intimate and scary that gesture is. A kiss... A kiss isn’t sex. As client and prostitute, it shouldn’t be something we should share. That’s for lovers, for sweethearts, for romantic strolls in the park. It’s for saying good night and farewell and ‘I’ll see you again soon’s. A kiss doesn’t have a price. Don’t let anyone fool you into thinking so.

“No.” I say.

...Was that a sigh of regret I just heard?


	6. Chapter 6

“Alright. It’s bothersome anyway.”  
“What?”

Then why try it in the first place, you stupid flea?

He moves his mouth down, away from mine, to kiss and lick across my jaw. I tilt my head away, exposing my neck. Izaya sees the opportunity, and he bites down hard. I feel – more than hear – myself whimper in shock. It’s not painful, but Izaya’s soon licking and sucking at the bite as if to comfort it.

It’ll just bruise either way, so I don’t care. Let him have his way.

It’s exactly what he’s doing. His fingers are touching every bit of sensitive skin, although I’ve only made the effort to card a single hand through his hair. I’ve come to hate everything about this occupation; everything about being a prostitute. So I’ve come to block it out.

I have to. Otherwise, I’d tear the other person apart.

Izaya... I wanna beat the shit outta him. I don’t care that it feels good to have his thumb pushing into the head of my cock, now that he’s taken off the boxers. I don’t care that I’m limp and panting under his hands. I don’t care that he’s taking the extra time to make sure I feel just as good.

…Something not a lot of people are willing to do.  
Normally, it would be a nice gesture, I guess.  
But with Izaya?

There’s gotta be some crazy, insane reason behind it. I don’t know what that reason could be, but I’m sure it’s there. Why else would he be standing up right now and walking around the room...?

I sit up, confused, panting, mouth hanging open as Izaya looks into the drawers on the nightstand before walking into the attached bathroom, obviously looking for something.

“Izaya-kun?”  
I hear him laugh. My voice sounds husky.  
“I’ll be right there, Shizu-chan.~”

I scrawl at the nickname, before lying back and fisting myself. I don’t care about what he’s doing, but he left me annoyingly hard and horny. I find myself copying his motions: pressing my thumb against the top, letting my pinky trail down in light strokes, squeezing with different strengths with different fingers. But my hand isn’t as flexible as his was; I admit, I can’t quite pull off whatever he had done.

I can’t get off like this. It’s annoying. Very annoying. Annoying that it felt so good and that I can’t repeat the motions. Annoying that my hand was stopped and pulled away.

An angry glance at Izaya only makes him smirk. He holds up a tiny bottle, dangling it in my face, then moves back to sit between my legs and open the it.

“What is that?” I growl.  
“Lube.”  
“Fuck no it isn’t.”

Clearly I’ve been doing this too long to recognize a bottle of lubricant when I see it.

He looks a little surprised to see that I knew the difference. Slightly wide eyes, titled head, a frown. It’s a change from a smirk at least. And no, it isn’t cute.

“Huh. Then what is it, Shizu-chan?” He closes the bottle with a snap.   
“Hell if I know.”   
I snatch the bottle from him and throw it, not caring that it leaves a crack in the plaster when it hits the wall.

“My, my, Shizu-chan.~ No need to get so violent!”

I barely hear him. I’m already digging in the other boot. I pull out a purple tube and hand it to him. I can tell that he’s amused that I carry something like this on me, but he takes it anyway. He examines it for a while, then glances at my legs.

Impatient, I growl. “Hurry up, flea.”

“Just a second.~” He pulls off my boots, tosses them on the floor, and then strokes the new flesh he’s uncovered. I hiss, and my hips buck. He laughs. “Shizu-chan’s so sensitive!” Izaya adds, obviously pleased. He continues to tease and stroke, dipping his fingers in the lube to make his touch cold. He makes designs on the surface of my skin, not touching my neglected cock.

It’s all so cold because my skin’s so heated.

“Iza...Izaya...”

I’m trembling and rocking my hips, mad that thrusting into the air isn’t giving me any pleasure. Yet he’s enjoying himself just fine. I can tell his jeans are undone. While he teases my entrance with a single, wet finger, Izaya’s pumping himself with an even wetter hand.

When had he gotten more lube?

The thought escapes me when that one finger finally breaches me, sliding in easily. It’s slick and chilled, causing me to flitch and pull back. Izaya growls, abandoning his erection to hold my hips down while he digs in deeper, pushes my walls apart, shoves in knuckle after knuckle, practically claws his way inside...

And it’s just his FINGER.

Somehow, he actually manages to get in deep enough to brush against that soft, sweet spot. My breathing stops, amazed. Yet Izaya’s look of frustration says something else.

I dunno if this is true, but it seems like he was disappointed in himself. But for what...?

He pulls his finger out, and I relax, ready for the pain and burn that further preparation brings. Despite my strength, despite having walked with bullet wounds, despite having had several broken bones, the pain of being spread is always the same.

No amount of preparation and relaxation could have prepared me for what came next.

Izaya obviously was impatient. I heard the squirt of more lube, and the only warning I received was the feel of both hands on my hips. My eyes widened a split second before he shoved his entire length past that still-tight ring of muscle and into my ass. I yelled, burning, flaming pain rippling up my spine at being stretched so fast, so forcibly.

“Sh-shit...”  
“Mmm, Shizu-chan’s so tight.” Izaya moaned, head falling back.

He wasn’t moving, at least. Instead, we were both gasping, trying to adjust – me, to the sensation of being too full, and him, to the feel of me twitching and quivering around him. Once or twice, I spasmed, my toes curling. Seconds ticked by. I wonder if he would come like this. It would be amusing, and I smirk at the thought.

He must’ve seen it, because he “Tch!”ed and began to move. He slid out slowly, pushing my legs up as he did so to get a better view. I couldn’t tell how far he pulled out, but it felt like all the way before he forced himself all the way back in with one, quick thrust. My muscles clenched around him in pain, my eyes sliding shut as he dragged himself back out, grunting. Another fast thrust, his hips snapping forward as he buried himself up to the hilt. If it weren’t for the pain, I might’ve noticed that his balls were almost slapping me each time.

Izaya continued, not caring that I hadn’t yet adjusted to his size. For a short man, he sure felt big in an unprepared hole.

“I thought Shizu-chan would be looser.” He panted, his motions becoming more rhythmic. “Being a slut and all.”

It amazes me that he can still talk while he tries to pound me. I can feel him shifting himself every few thrusts, but each aim is wrong and it hurts.

“Or is Shizu-chan such a monster, no one wants to sleep with him?”

I used to think that too. It’s hard to get a client after you throw a vending machine at them. So I tried to stop throwing stuff.

Oh, fuck, that really hurt!! I whimper, feeling my eyes turn wet.

“I’m quite surprised you’re enjoying this, Shizu-chan! Who ever thought?”  
“You did.” I ground out.  
“Nuh-uh!” He replies, shifting his weight once more. When he thrusts back in, white-hot pleasure rattles my body. My whole lower body tightens up, and Izaya gasps and moans, slowing down for a moment to savor the warmth that surrounds him.

“Ah…Again… Izaya, again!”

He blinks before pulling out and plunging back in at the same angle. The head of his cock smashes against my prostate; I can’t help but to gargle out my pleasure. Izaya continues, no longer speaking, only groaning and breathing heavily as he keeps trying to push himself deeper and deeper with each thrust, my own “Ah!”s and “Nyaaa!”s encouraging him.

When it feels like I can’t take no more, I grab my own dick and buck into my hand, rolling my hips into Izaya’s motions. The over-stimulation causes a knot of heat to form in my belly, before it explodes and I fall back, panting, my body shaking and my muscles tightening and clamping down on the hard flesh still pounding into me. Although I’m spent, he continues, abusing my walls with his length until he’s happy.

When Izaya comes, it burns and hurts. Hot, sticky fluid shoots deep inside my hole, promising to be a bitch to clean out before the next night.

It feels wrong.


End file.
